The Prices we Pay
by Niahara Erskine
Summary: The Took family had always had many secrets. As a child Bilbo had learned all he could about the forbidden arts from Old Took. The First Law of Equivalent Exchange had been drilled into his mind ever since he could talk. However, when faced with no other alternatives, he forsook all for save those who are dear to his heart. [Hiatus]
1. Equivalent Exchange

**A/N I shouldn't be doing this ... Gah! I still have "Only time will tell to finish", I shouldn't be starting another story. Why, oh why? I got this idea stuck in my head and decided to play with it a bit. I don't know how long this story will be and even if it's going to have a proper ending... plus I'm messing up canon so bad here than most likely the Valars will strike me down *grin* Let me know what you think about it! The idea is somewhat taken from the anime Full Metal Alchemist as is the quote from the first chapter, though there the setting is different and the alchemy has been changed with something else that will be revealed in the next chapters.**

**Disclaimer: As you very well know none of this is mine. Also, English is not my native language.**

**Summary: The Took family had always had many secrets. As a child Bilbo had learned all he could about the forbidden arts from Old Took. The First Law of Equivalent Exchange had been drilled into his mind ever since he could talk. However, when faced with no other alternatives, he gives it all to safe those who are dear to his heart. **

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**Chapter I: Equivalent Exchange**

_"Human kind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain ,something of equal value must be lost. That is Alchemy's first law of equivalent exchange."_

_~ Full Metal Alchemist_

Still... they looked so still and small, lying on those flimsy cots, with pale faces and bloodied bodies that Bilbo had a hard time recognizing the exuberant youths that he had grown so fond of in the broken dwarves before his eyes. Their chests barely rose anymore and it was clear that no matter what happened next, no healer would be able to bring them back from the threshold. They were too far gone and only a miracle would be able to save them from heading to Mandos' Halls.

Next to them lay their uncle, looking just as still... there was no honour and glory in war, Bilbo thought bitterly in that moment, if the only thing it did was rob the life of those who had fought so hard to reclaim their home. Thorin would never get to see the glory of Erebor restored, would never live to truly claim his title of "King under the Mountain." Fili would never follow his uncle on the throne, would not make the line of Durin endure. Kili would never grow a beard, never find love, and never know the meaning of home.

As he stood in front of all three of Durin's heirs, Bilbo felt a steely determination take over him and vowed to aid them even if it meant forsaking his life. He knew the Law of Equivalent Exchange was not to be trifled with and understood that even if he used it, what he had to offer might not even be enough, but Yavanna help him he would try. He would not let them fade after they suffered so much and sacrificed everything.

Using the blood dripping from the gash on his arm, Bilbo drew a series of symbols on the ground. He had learned their meaning as a fauntling under the strict gaze of Old Took and had been reminded again and again:

"_To obtain , something of equal value must be lost."_

_and_

_"Our powers cannot bring back those who have passed the threshold, dear boy."_

But they were not dead, not yet and he still had a chance, before natural balance interfered. One last change...

_"In blood I sign,"_ he chanted and the symbols under his hands started giving away a red light. He had only moments before Gandalf saw the light and understood what he was doing.

_"An oath I bind..."_

It was the right thing to do, he told himself. It was something his mother would have done for him and now he did for those he cherished as a family. There was no turning back, no changing his mind. His Took blood fuelled him and led him onward.

_"Fire, earth, water and air..."_

A soft light engulfed the three bodies on the bed and their breathing started easing. The flow of blood was stopped and colour returned to their ashen faces.

_"Their burden mine to bear..."_

He felt shadows dancing at the corner of his eyes and fatigue seeping into his body. His voice became softer and quieter, the last words of the chant becoming mere whispers that no one else could hear.

_"Body, soul and heart, I give them all..."_

The last words of the chant were the ones to end the pledge, but he knew only the wind would hear them and carry them forward. As the word left his lips, silence fell in the healing tents and the oath claimed its first toll... a voice.

_"And pledge my fall..."_

Bilbo Baggins fell unconscious on the hard ground and knew no more. Next to him, on three different cots, the heirs of Durin felt life coursing one more through their veins and stirred...


	2. A price to pay

**A/N** **Guys I am floored! Really! Thank you so much for your review, follows and favourites. I never expected this little experiment to gain so much attention!** **I have a somewhat vague idea where I'm going with this and I think there aren't going to be many chapters – mostly 10 – and you'll probably hate me by the end because it's going to be bitter, but the title is "The Prices we pay" so there was no way this was going to be happy.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, of course XD**

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**Chapter II: A price to pay**

In years to come the dwarves of Erebor would always remember the bright light that sprang from the healing tent of the King and reached the skies. They would remember how a feeling of lightness passed over them and how in that moment they felt like everything would be all right. Dain Ironfoot, son of Nain, cousin to Thorin Oakenshield would say that for the first time that day he felt hope rekindle in his heart and knew that somehow his kin would survive.

Gandalf Greyhem, however, would pause in shock and feel dread seep into his soul. Out of all those present at the Battle of Five Armies only he knew what that light meant and seeing it burst into the sky, he understood that a great price had been paid, not once, but thrice. He rushed into the tent and saw the hobbit lying limp on the ground; he did not even have to glance in the direction of Durin's heirs to know what had been done. All he could do was ask himself what had been lost.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf sighed wearily.

Picking Bilbo up with ease, Gandalf left the tent sparing one last glance at Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain and whispered sadly:

"You do not deserve the gift that has been granted to you,"

Mounting his steed with all haste and placing Bilbo in front of him in the saddle, Gandalf rushed to the Shire. He remembered very well what he had learned from the Thain of the Shire during the Long Winter and knew that Bilbo had to return home as soon as possible. His memories took him to a time almost two centuries before when he had first met hobbits.

_It was the first time Gandalf had met these particular children of Eru and it was in the hour of their direst need. He had heard of Halflings before, a curious race that was soft and nimble, who hid from the Tall Folk and was almost as adept at moving undetected as the elves, but had never had the time to know them. _

_During the Long Winter they had been pressed hard because of famine and the orcs coming down from the Mountain and it was only with aid that their race survived. But they had strength in them that shone in face of adversity and their kind nature helped them live to see another day. They also had secrets, old secrets passed in the family... _

_It was only gratefulness and the relief of being alive that had the Thain of the Shire share some of his secrets with Gandalf. In the healing rooms deep inside Tuckborough, Gandalf was able to see the most peculiar type of healing._

_"Hobbits are the children of this land, Master Gandalf," the Thain said, while drawing symbols on the ground with black dust. "The land loves us and takes care of us and we take care of it in return. It thought us its secrets."_

_As the symbols beneath his hands started glowing red and the tween on the bed stopped grimacing in pain, the Thain continued._

_"The arts of healing were given to the Took family in order to aid the land and its children, but we always pay the price. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is the Law given to us and we always abide it, never try to sidetrack it."_

_As he listened on, Gandalf learned that the land and the Powers that Be enact the price. For minor wounds the price is usually energy taken from the healer. The greater the need, the greater the price... even life could be taken as a toll._

_"We sign in earth, water, air, fire and blood, depending on the strength of our pledge. The pledge of blood is the strongest possible. One can also offer his entire being in order to make the pledge stronger... this usually happens when an elder offers himself to save a child. We need the land to guide us in order to fulfil our oath, no matter what price is claimed. Without the land we are lost..."_

"You silly, silly, boy," Gandalf muttered softly; on the saddle Bilbo was still unconscious and the wizard had no idea what price may had been enacted for healing three people that were almost at the gates of Mandos' Halls. He merely knew that he had to bring Bilbo back to the Shire with all haste...

Behind them, back in Erebor, blue eyes opened in the healing tents. Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, woke from a death-like sleep and mirroring the words uttered after another battle asked:

"The Halfling! Where is he?"

Balin's grave countenance and unuttered words made his souls sink...


	3. The land that bears me

**A/N These chapters will be short in the beginning, just so you know. They're more about dealing with the aftermath of Bilbo's decision so there will be no action/adventure for a while only loads of drama, guilt and frustration *grin* I'm sadistic like that! But, who know, this story might just surprise me till I see it to its end.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine XD**

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**Chapter III: The land that bears me**

Bilbo knew the exact moment when he passed the borders of the Shire. Although he was lost and asleep, caught in never-ending darkness, he felt the land greeting him home and the rustle of the Shire leaves echoing in his ears. He knew that the time to pay the price had come now that the land was able to take its toll. He knew and waited and soon his waiting came to an end. The darkness in his dreams parted and revealed rolling hills of green and winding, crystal-clear waters. He was still unconscious and the Shire he saw was had a dream like quality. He sat cross-legged on the grass and waited patiently.

"The Son of Belladonna Took has come to fulfil his pledge," a bodiless voice called in the air. "His pledge is signed in blood. His oath forsook all. Now he awaits our judgement," the voice was soft, almost female, yet ethereal. Bilbo had never known whether the judges were the spirits of the land or the Higher Powers. He knew there were three of them and in this case each of them would call a price.

"Son of Took, we have witnessed your pledge and granted it," a second voice called, this time masculine and fierce. "Three times you have called on us and offered yourself and three times we have acted. Now, I call my first price! You offered your body in your pledge... I claim your voice which enacted the pledge in return for the healing of their bodies. No longer will you be able to call upon us for aid and no longer will your voice be heard in this land. So mote it be!"

Bilbo nodded and waited for the other two to call their price. He had known from the moment the last words had left his lips that such would be the first price, the pay of the body. The hollowness in his throat and the whisper of the wind told him as much.

"Son of Took," a third voice said, neither female nor male, but gentle and warm. "Three times you have called us and three times we have granted your heart's desire. You offered your soul in the pledge and it is my turn to claim my price. Time you have asked for, time they did not have and they were granted that time. In turn time shall be taken from you, son of Took. Three years you shall spend in oblivious slumber until your debt to me is paid. Darkness will keep you until the time has been spent. So mote it be!"

Bilbo gave a shuddering breath and nodded, showing that he had understood the price. He had promised he would give anything for the three he cherished more than anything and give he would.

"Son of Took," the first voice returned and it held a comforting tone in it, "three times you have called upon us and three times we have aided you, but not without a price. You offered your heart in your pledge and I shall now claim what is mine. Your memories are the price I call on, son of Took. When you wake up from your slumber you shall know only who, what and where you are. You will recognize your Thain and remember your pledge... the rest of your memories will be mine, locked away till the end of time."

Tears fell down Bilbo's cheeks, but he nodded nonetheless. Anything had been his promise and anything will be. Even knowing that he would not remember laughter full of mischief and warm, callused hands keeping him close at night would not deter him. They were worth it. Nothing else mattered.

"Your heart you gave, son of Took and your heart will aid you if it is true. Only the one who has claim over your heart will be able to unlock those memories. So mote it be!"

The hills disappeared and the sky got shadowed as soon as the last voice stopped speaking. For three years Bilbo Baggins would know nothing but darkness until the sand in the hourglass came to an end.

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As soon as Gandalf had entered the Shire carrying an unconscious Bilbo Baggins in his arms, Paladin Took, Thain of the Shire, knew something was wrong. He realized what was wrong when the land spoke to him and revealed the price the son of Belladonna Took had paid for his pledge. Now, as he stood inside Bag End, dusting off the mantle and making the home somewhat presentable even if its owner would not see if for another three years, he wondered who it had been that had meant so much to cousin Bilbo.

"He will not wake anytime soon, master wizard," the Thain told Gandalf that was hovering in the doorstep of Bilbo's room, looking at the unmoving hobbit. "Such is the price he has to pay. And when he will wake, he will not be the same."

Gandalf's shoulders slumped, remembering a moment, almost one year prior, when he had told a frightened hobbit the exact same words. He had never expected such a thing to happen, never wanted Bilbo to pay such a price.

"He has made his choice, master Gandalf and live with it he will," Paladin Took said sternly. "Do not insult him with your pity. He knew what he was doing and chose accordingly."

"It was not pity, master Took," Gandalf admitted throwing one last glance at the son of his former pupil. "It's regret and it is mine to bear. I may have been wrong and gambled more than I had to gamble." With these words the Grey wizard left Bag End and the Shire... he would not be seen in those lands for another three years.

Unknown to him, at the same time he rode away from the Shire and headed in the wilderness, a raven flew from Erebor in search of Tharkûn bearing a message from the King under the Mountain and his two heirs.

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_**A/N WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING? O_O I was not expecting this to happen! =)) When I wrote this chapter I only had the first two prices in mind, the third one took me completely by surprise.**_


	4. A message in the wind

**A/N O_O Thank you, thank you, thank you! Your support is thoroughly appreciated and I am glad to see you like this idea of mine. I will mostly try to update it daily, at least in the beginning when the chapters will be short. I also have a feeling this story will be even darker than I intended it to be once Bilbo wakes up. Therefore, check out the A/N for warnings in the future chapters.**

**Disclaimer: same as before. Also this story is unbetaed :D**

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**Chapter IV: A message in the wind**

Everything comes with a price; Thorin had known that when he had set on his journey with only thirteen dwarves and a hobbit, hoping to reclaim Erebor and his family's legacy. He had believed the price worth paying, no matter what it was. When the Battle of Five Armies had come to an end he had realized with pain that the price might just be the whole line of Durin sundered in one single war. Yet, Erebor was reclaimed and if he were to go to his Forefathers' Halls then he would do so with his head held high, as would his nephews. They had done what they had set out to do and reclaimed their honour.

However, death was not the price that had been paid. Something had happened, something that saved him and his nephews, while stealing Bilbo Baggins in the process. Even now, months after the end of the Battle he recalled Balin's voice vividly as the elder dwarf spoke about the Halfling – no longer his Halfling, Thorin's pride had robbed him of the right of considering Bilbo his.

"We had all said our farewells," Balin had said, "when Gandalf appeared with Bilbo in tow. Our hobbit had a bleeding gash on his forehead and a nasty slash on his arm, but appeared otherwise unharmed. Bilbo entered the tent, while the wizard remained behind. What happened next I cannot understand laddie, because I have never seen something akin to it before. Pure light rose from your tent and reached the skies; all felt its power – it was gentle and kind. But Gandalf's face was grave as he rushed inside and got out, moments later with the hobbit limp and pale in his arms. He mounted his horse and left without a word, ignoring our questions and pleas for answers. When we entered the tent we saw that you three had been healed - by whatever power I cannot tell. However, there were symbols drawn in blood on the ground and the wind seemed to whisper in that place."

Thorin also remembered Fili coming to him that night after they had been allowed the leave their healing tents, a frown marring his usually carefree features, his eyes constantly going back to where his brother stood, just a few feet away. The dwarf King constantly thought back on what Fili had shared with him.

"We should not have been alive, uncle. Kee and me, we made our choice when we saw you fall and we paid for it. The wounds we had suffered were deadly... Kee's chest was slashed open and my body was littered with arrows. We were together and we heard father calling us from the Halls... we were nearly there when something brought us back, something that spoke of an oath and a pledge that I can no longer remember. Someone paid a price for us..."

At that time Thorin said nothing, merely nodded darkly, because he did not know what he could have said to his nephew. He too recalled the voices of Thrain and Thror beckoning him home, the peacefulness of death. He also remembered a voice whispering softly in the air, speaking of land and pledges. Then he was back, his wounds healed and their burglar nowhere in sight.

Months had passed since them, months during which he had heard no news of the wizard that had chosen Bilbo Baggins as their fourteenth companion or of the Halfling they had all grown so fond of. Erebor was being restored, its halls well on their way to seeing the glory of the old days once more, yet all the members of the Company could think of was one hobbit that had given them so much.

The only remembrance of the war they fought together were the new tombs carved in the mountain for those who had fallen in battle and the fresh scars that had replaced the wounds which should have robbed them of their lives.

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In the darkness another raven took flight, Horac, son of Roac, son of Carc. His kin had failed to find the Grey Wizard, but he would bring the quest to an end if only to see light return once more to the eyes of the dwarven Princes who had been so kind to him.

Days later, at the borders of Rohan, a chestnut mare halted in her run as its rider brought her to a stop. A black raven landed on the ground in front of the horse and relayed a message given to him by the Line of Durin. The rider, a stranger clad in grey garments listened to the message in silence and nodded. Perhaps he would return to Erebor... Perhaps the line of Thror was not cursed as it was once believed... Maybe Thorin deserved a second chance.


	5. Choices of the heart

**A/N This chapter is wrapping all loose ends up before the end of the three years. I think you will most likely hate me by the time this story will be halfway done, but I'm sadistic like that and only able to write happy ends not happy stories. Thank you for your lovely reviews and looking forward to seeing what you think about this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: same as before**

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**Chapter V: Choices of the heart**

Many months had passed until Gandalf was able to head towards the Lonely Mountain. The Shadow has started stretching over the land once more and his presence was needed in the south. Gondor was once more at war with Mordor and Osgiliath had fallen under orc dominion. Sauron was once again showing himself; his defeat in Dol Guldur had been but a ruse, his plans having been set into motion a long time ago. He had waited for the opportunity to return to his fortress in Barad – dur and strengthen his forces once more.

Now, almost a year since the day of the Battle of Five Armies, Gandalf stood in the throne room of Erebor and gazed in the eyes of thirteen dwarves who had done the impossible and reclaimed a mountain guarded by a dragon. No one else besides the Company took part in the meeting for no other cared for the tiding Gandalf had brought more than those who were present. Part of the wizard ached to see the shadows in their eyes and the sadness lingering on their faces, despite having their home back. Ori was standing next to the older Ri brothers, shaking like a leaf, his fingers furiously knitting though he was not even looking at the patterns he created. Bofur was without his hat for the first time since Gandalf had met the toymaker; instead the precious head garment was being bent and twisted in his hands that clutched the fabric hard. Balin was not even trying to hide the worry on his face, while Dwalin, stood silent as a stone. Only the emotions swirling in his eyes gave anything away.

Gandalf's gaze moved to the Line of Durin and he saw the same deep engrained sadness in their posture as well. Kili was standing on the left side of the throne, attempting to look regal, yet failing as he fidgeted and kneaded his fingers together. On the right, Fili was viciously pulling on one of his braids as if it had offended him somewhat and trying to hide the pain in his eyes. Perhaps, Thorin's countenance had been the one that had made Gandalf decide to answer their question truthfully. The Dwarf King held no arrogance in his eyes anymore, only joy mingled with grief and triumph stained by loss.

"It is good to see you again, wizard-friend," Thorin said calmly, despite the turmoil that was raging in his heart.

"Is it really?" Gandalf's eyebrows rose in apparent disbelief. "Last we met you cursed my choice of a burglar and threatened to throw him off the mountain. It is only for Horac that I am here now, for his grandsire, Carc, had been dear to my heart and aided me many times."

Next to the King, Fili shook as if a blow had rained upon him and Kili closed his eyes in pain. Thorin kept his posture, though his shoulder hunched almost imperceptibly.

"I was a fool and I was blind. I did not see what Bilbo was trying to do; had it not been for him the orcs would have overrun everything and all we had fought for would have been for naught. Everything would have turned into a slaughter... I would have apologized and thanked him had I been able to. I know I do not deserve to know his fate, but I would ask you nonetheless, Tharkûn, for those of this Company who remained loyal to Bilbo even when I was blinded by the gold-lust."

Gandalf had already made up his mind, but Thorin's speech convinced him even more he would be making the right choice. Bilbo would need his friends when and if he woke – the wizard did not truly trust the powers that the Took family invoked – even though he would not remember them.

"By all rights you should not be here enjoying your restored kingdom, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said sternly, "nor should your sister-sons be alive. Your folly could have doomed all... Yet, you have been given a second chance by one who never forsook you though the priced he paid was high."

"Then he is..." Kili stuttered, unable to finish his thought.

"No, Bilbo Baggins is not dead," Gandalf said with a weary sigh. "But the price he has paid may be much greater. It might have been kinder had the price claimed had been his life...The members of the Took family are the healers of the Shire; they learn from the moment they leave their cradle that in order to obtain something, an equal price must be paid. The land taught them how to heal and the land claims the price for the healing. Bilbo healed three people who were on the brink of death."

The paleness that washed over their faces showed Gandalf that they fully comprehended what he meant.

"Hobbits are remarkable creatures. You can learn all there is about them in a month and even after a hundred years they can still surprise you. They hide their secrets with upmost care and share them only with those they deem worthy. After the Long Winter, the Thain of the Shire showed me how the Tooks heal. He told me that one can offer his entire being as payment to bring back those he holds dear. Bilbo did that and the land claimed three prices: of the body, of the soul and of the heart."

By now everyone was hanging on his every word. Gandalf hoped with all his heart that the judges of the land granted Bilbo that small bit of mercy they had promised him, because otherwise they would break more than one person.

"Bilbo called upon the land for aid three times and the judges answered each time. The judge of the body claimed his voice as payment for the healing of your bodies," the wizard pretended to ignore the sharp gasp that echoed in the stone halls and the eyes that started getting misty. "The judge of the soul granted you time and in turn took time away from Bilbo. He has fallen asleep and will remain so until the third anniversary of the Battle of Five Armies has passed."

Kili moved to stand next to his brother, almost swaying on his feet. He did not want to hear the last price Bilbo had paid if the first two had been this high. Fili clasped a hand hard on his shoulder, steadying both himself and his brother in the process.

"And what of the last judge, the judge of hearts?" Balin asked when no one else seemed able to pose the question.

"The Thain told me the judge of hearts is the most compassionate judge, but I find it the harshest. A heart is made of feelings and memories; without them it is merely an empty vessel. The third price that was claimed were Bilbo's memories that will remain locked until his time on Middle Earth is spent or until the one to whom he gave his heart unlocks them."

Kili gave a shuddering gasp and could not stop the tears flowing down his face. With his head buried in his brother's shoulder he kept muttering 'He won't remember us, Fee," while Fili chocked back his own sorrow and tried comforting his brother.

Thorin Oakenshield looked very much like someone who had lost the most precious thing in his life... yet, his eyes held the steely resolve on one who never gave up in face of adversity. Seeing that gaze lightened Gandalf's soul somewhat... if there was a chance for Bilbo to return to them, then Thorin Oakenshield would not fail.

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**A/N And I feel like I'm moving through a sea of fillers here -_- But these scenes had to happen and I did not feel ok blending them in the same chapter. Bilbo will be waking up in the next chapter and the angsty part will start :D I have a really evil idea pertaining to the Ring and the Shire.**


	6. Hollowness in my soul

**A/N Once again thank you very, very much for all your wonderful reviews, favourites and follows. Also, before we move on to the next chapter, I want to announce that in this story Bolg is very much alive and kicking ( Azog died at the Battle of Five Armies – going sort of movie verse a bit ) and the Ring is still in Bilbo's possession. These two things will be important. Also, I want to specify something because I think I've been a bit ambiguous about it: Bilbo still has the knowledge that come with the memories he lost. For example he still knows how to make a stew, he just doesn't know who taught him. He still knows what Rivendell is, but he doesn't remember how he knows.**

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**Chapter VI: Hollowness in my soul**

It is a chilly November day when Bilbo Baggins wakes up from his slumber. Dark, heavy clouds hang ominously in the sky, preparing the land for the storm that is soon to come. The hobbit's eyelids flutter open in the relative darkness of Bag End and he gazes at his surroundings in awe as a newborn babe would when faced with his first sight of the world. The hobbit climbs down from his bed, letting his hands brush against the crisp, white linens – changed by Paladin Took twice weekly, though Bilbo has no way of knowing that – and starts making small steps across the house.

His mind is foggy from too much sleep so Bilbo strolls through the house aimlessly waiting for his thoughts to clear. He remembers his name first – Bilbo Baggins – and the name of his Thain – Paladin Took, head of the Took family, though who the Took family is he does not know. He recalls he is in the Shire – land of the hobbits – and that he has made a pledge – but on behalf of whom he does not now. The hollowness in his throat reminds him powerfully of the pledge as does the blankness in his mind. He cannot remember the names of his parents, the life he has lived or even those who he has given so much for.

He figures everything in the house is his, but nothing sparks any kind of familiarity in him. It is not a home any longer, hasn't been ever since that day he cannot remember three years ago. Nothing binds him to this place and he realizes the fact with pain. Portraits adorn the walls, portraits of men and women with names written under them; names like 'Belladonna', 'Bungo' or 'Gerontius' that mean nothing to him and do not spark even the tiniest recollection.

His pantry is full of food, as befitting a hobbit, but as he takes into account the mountains of cheese, cookies, sausages, smoked fish and fruit, he realizes he doesn't even know what kind of food he likes.

'I'll just have to start from the beginning again,' he tries to motivate himself, but a weight settles into his soul and he finds himself thinking he cannot do this alone. Perhaps it had been a stronger version of him that had made that pledge, but that person was no longer him. He had nothing to rely on; love, friendship, family, these were all abstract notions to him. Logically, he knows he should have been bonded by at least some of these ties before, but now all he feels is emptiness.

'One step at a time, Bilbo,' he thinks to himself. 'First let's see this place.'

There are many rooms in the house and he takes his time to check them all out. There's one room in particular to which he feels himself drawn to and it is not the one he woke up in, the one that had to be his. It is a round room, with sunset orange curtains and a large bed; a room that has a woman's gentle touch in the painting above the bedside table, in the doilies arranged everywhere in the room and the sweet smell of lavender that still lingers in the place. Bilbo wonders whether this was his mother's room at some point and the warmth the room seeps in his bones tells him yes, although his mind cannot answer.

With reluctance he moves away from the room, determined to return there whenever the emptiness because too much to bear. He finds a family tree framed on a wall in one of the studies as sees his name tied to Belladonna Took and Bungo Baggins. The branches of the tree twist further and he learns that Gerontius Took was his grandfather and that he had lived for 130 years.

'Is that even possible for a hobbit?' he wonders to himself as his fingers brush over books and spare pieces of parchment, trying to reacquaint himself with their touch.

Back in his room, he notices things that he did not see when he woke up. A sword sheath is leaning next to a wall and his fingers moved over the sword's hilt. He takes the blade out and feels that somehow it belongs to him, somehow the sword's natural place is in his hand.

But hobbits are no warriors, so why does he feel thus?

Placing the sword back to where it came from, he sees a couple of brass buttons arranged neatly on a small table and a beautifully carved pipe that clearly does not hail from the Shire. There's also a travel journal that has, at one point, fallen into a river or something similar, because the ink in it is smeared all over the place and there are water stains on the pages. Some words remain clear, words like 'Mirkwood', 'Beorn' or 'river', but they make no sense, so Bilbo gives up on trying to read it.

Moving from his bedroom, Bilbo checks out the sitting room which he left last. A small fire is cracking merrily in the fireplace, its flames illuminating the armchair and table beside it. Bilbo's eyes fall on a leather bound object placed on the table and he walks towards it. Picking it up, he notices it is an empty journal with a letter caught between its pages.

_"Dear Bilbo,_

_I may not be there when you wake up, but be assured that I will arrive as soon as possible. Even though you might not remember us, we remember you and never for one moment should you think you are alone. Things might seem hard now, they might just get worse, before they get better, but you will make it Bilbo Baggins. Even though you may not remember it, you are strong, perhaps one of the strongest hobbits I know. The judges would not have given you this fate had they not thought you could handle it._

_This journal is my gift to make it easier for you to share your thoughts with the others. If things become overbearing you can always write down in it and ease some of the burden that presses on your soul through writing._

_Paladin Took II, Thain of the Shire."_

A beautiful quill is set on the table next to where the journal previously lay, together with a bottle of ink. Bilbo's fingers shake as he picks up the quill and his eyes get clouded by tears; he should remember learning to read and write, should remember hands over his, steady, guiding the quill over the paper, should remember soft encouragements in his ears. Something in his heart tells him at one point he was offered all this, yet now it is no longer there. Everything disappeared and was replaced with a haze that might never go away. He finds it strange that it was not the sword, or the family tree or his mother's portrait that reminded him so keenly of what he had lost, but a plain, simple quill that is both alluring and frightening at the same time. He wants to pick it up and write his thoughts; he is afraid that once they are set on paper he will regret what he has written. A whirlwind of emotions rushed through him and he chokes back a sob.

He wants to remember and he cannot. He wants to go back to sleep and never wake up. He doesn't really know what he wants.

His hands continue shaking as he puts ink to paper and starts writing, staining the journal with tear drops and ink splashes.

**"My name is Bilbo Baggins.**

**I am a hobbit of the Shire.**

**I live in Hobbiton.**

**I have no memory of my life, of my past or my present.**

**There's a hollowness in my throat and a hollowness in my soul.**

**No matter what Paladin says I am alone, because who would want to be near me?**

**I gave up everything for people I cannot remember. Was it even worth it?**

**I gave up everything and lost myself. Will I ever find myself? **

**Is it wrong to wish that everything had been ended three years ago? It is wrong to regret my decision? Is it right to continue living when everything that defines you has been stripped away and all there's left is an empty shell?**

**I feel like a leaf adrift in the wind... there's no knowing where I'm going or what will happen to me.**

**A part of me wants to shut myself inside this house and never leave.**

**A part of me wants to leave the Shire and never look back."**

He shuts the journal and puts it forcefully on the table, before collapsing in the armchair. His shoulders shake with the sobs that rack his body, but in the end he feels better. He can do this, he just has to figure out how.

Unknown to him, back in his room, in the pocket of a ruined waistcoat, a Ring understands its Bearer has woken up and starts whispering in the darkness.

Unknown to him, far away, over hills and rivers, in the depth of the Misty Mountains, howls and jeers echo in the darkness. A small army of orcs and wargs is preparing to march led by an orc with grey eyes and metal bound to its head. Revenge is called in one ghastly voice, revenge over the Line of Durin and the cursed Akashuga who aided the dwarves.


End file.
